


Ten Steps Ahead as Always

by lyonie17



Category: Gosford Park (2001)
Genre: F/M, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-01
Updated: 2009-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyonie17/pseuds/lyonie17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Trentham doesn't like shooting parties, but the food is better.</p><p>[The treat I wrote for Poisontaster.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Steps Ahead as Always

  
"What gift do you think a good servant has that separates them from the others? It's the gift of anticipation. And I'm a good servant. I'm better than good. I'm the best. I'm the perfect servant. I know when they'll be hungry and the food is ready. I know when they'll be tired and the bed is turned down. I know it before they know it themselves."

Mary Maceachran took Mrs. Wilson's words to heart. It was the epitome of what Mary had wished to be, when she went into service, and Mrs. Wilson was exactly what Mary believed a servant should be.

Lady Trentham, one need hardly say, was not all an employer ought to be, but Mary was learning to make do. French aprons aside, it was good training, and her Ladyship could hardly give her a poor reference after she'd bragged to all and sundry that she was training her own lady's maid. Mary just had to last through the training.

Just at the moment, Mary had to prepare for the next shooting party. Never as exciting as the first one, weekend parties had got to be quite commonplace now. Miss Trentham had gotten the hang of it, and she always brought plain shirts for sports and two jewel cases and an easily opened thermos of chocolate.

This weekend it was another shooting party, with another of Lady Trentham's generous friends, who could be depended on to give a good breakfast, and who might have some amusing friends to allay the boredom of a shooting party. Not Ivor Novello, naturally, but nobody could get Ivor Novello anymore.

A shooting party was familiar ground. There had been two more since Sir William's, and Mary had quite fallen into the routine. Of course, they were quite quiet, nothing to compare, but one doesn't seek such things.

Mary thought she might have recognized one of the other touring-cars when they arrived, but in the rush of unloading, and locking up the jewel case, and finding her Ladyship's room and then her own, she had put it out of her mind.

It wasn't until just before dinner, when she was chatting with another of the visiting ladies' maids, and heard the butler announcing places at the table, that she realized Lord Stockbridge was one of the party upstairs. She didn't turn to stare and see who the valet was, but she completely lost the train of her conversation, coming to herself only when Miss Drummond inquired if she was quite well. Just hungry, Mary excused herself, and found her place quickly, keeping her head down as much as she could.

It wouldn't be Robert, after all, she assured herself. He'd only taken the position with Lord Stockbridge to get closer to Sir William. He'd no reason to stay on after that, and he certainly had no great liking for his Lordship.

Of course, it was Robert. Of course. Mary sat for five minutes, soaking that in, and responding to her seatmate's conversation with monosyllables, before she came back to herself, applied her attention to her plate and the head footman, and succeeded in completely ignoring Lord Stockbridge's valet's existence. Of course, he seemed perfectly unaware of her. That made it only marginally more easy.

After upstairs dinner there was a game of bridge, so Mary put off getting her hot water bottle until the last possible moment. Still, Robert slipped out of the kitchen with hers in his hand, and gave it to her with a grin.

"Hullo. Didn't think to see you here. Thought her Ladyship would have gone off shooting parties." He touched her elbow as they turned up the backstairs together.

"She didn't like them to begin with, but the food's better." She stopped in front of the Picture Room, which contained three rather plain hunting prints which her Ladyship had damned with faint praise while dressing for dinner.

"I'll see you in the morning then, shall I?" Robert seemed like he was waiting for something, but when Mary just nodded, he winked and turned down the hall. Mary stood in the doorway a moment, thinking she'd missed something, but the clicking of heels on the front stairs sent her straight in to turn down the bed, and three minutes later she'd forgotten he'd been there. Well, she wished she had.

Her Ladyship was in quite the mood, as she'd not realized the Stockbridges would be there either, and how precisely was one to make conversation when the last common experience one had with a person consisted of the murder of a mutual acquaintance. It was just too much.

Her Ladyship was mollified with a pot of chocolate, and declared her intentions of breakfasting quite early the next morning. "I have some correspondence to attend to, so I don't wish to be bothered before lunchtime, when I shall join the rest of the party. See to it, Mary."

Mary saw to it. She spoke with the housekeeper and the cook, who'd taken care to acquire some home-made marmalade in anticipation of Lady Trentham's visit. Apparently, this was an annual visit, which the household had learnt to prepare for. An early tray was bespoken, and Mary was off to her attic, where her companion had already shut out the light.

The next morning, after the tray arrived and her tweeds were laid out, her Ladyship dismissed Mary for the morning. "Walk into town or something, I shan't want you until after lunch. Go on."

Mary, a bit taken aback at this unprecedented generosity, ascertained of Richards, the butler, the direction and distance of town, and the direction of the hunting party - thankfully opposite town. She then stood for a moment in the corridor, pondering whether her rare and precious half-day should be spent walking to and from town, with no chance for shopping or a cup of tea, or whether she could permissably spend it in the house, to her own ends.

A walk it was, whether she got to town or not. Her last holiday she'd spent nearly all out-of-doors at home, and the country here was pretty, if not Scotland. Mary went upstairs at almost a run, for a hat and a book, and then sedately downstairs again, and down the road in the direction of town.

She found a convenient tree at the edge of a field, and sat there for two hours with her finger marking her place in the book, watching the clouds and the sheep in the next field. She'd nearly given up when he spoke.

"You're not reading."

"You're not polishing shoes."

"I don't like polishing shoes. I make sure it doesn't take long."

"Why are you still with Lord Stockbridge? I thought you'd have left him quite soon after-"

"Well, after- I got a raise in wages. And I really had no reason to move. I wasn't unhappy in my position, just got it with ulterior motives."

"But I thought you didn't like him?"

"I don't mind him. He's better than some. I may still have ulterior motives, anyway."

"But Sir William-"

"Sir William isn't the only person Lord Stockbridge can get me close to."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh. I didn't think you'd minded that I kissed you. Was I wrong?"

"Oh no. Not wrong. I-"

"Good."

Mary was a bit late after lunch, but her Ladyship didn't notice, because one of the shooters had been nicked in the arm, and a doctor had to be called, and wasn't it all just exhausting, she didn't know why she went through it all anymore. And did Mary enjoy her morning?

"Oh yes, ma'am. It was quite lovely, thank you. I saw quite a bit of the countryside. It's really lovely hereabouts."  



End file.
